(no subject)
Chris says I should update. I think a few of my entries start with this.
The only problem is I don'tfeel like saying anything now.
The last few paragraphes of the thing to follow is what I've been working on today.
I hear a cello playing chords that are echoing around my skull.
He hated the way the cover of a new book would remain slightly open after having read a few pages and put it down. He wasn’t entirely sure why he despised the way the book looked now. It used to be so new, so crisp; so perfect. Now it was open with its eloquent pages exposed to the horrors of the world. The solid cover was no longer able to protect them in the way it once had. Their innocence now in jeopardy, all he could do was sit and stare, unable to get over how much he hated the sight before him.
What was he to do now? Place an object on the book in an effort to keep it closed? He thought about this, but it just didn’t seem to work. Another object intervening too aid the covers in what they were meant to do in the first place wasn’t the answer. Why had they lost their strength-why weren’t they able to fulfill their meaning anymore? Their objective was to protect the pages. Their mere purpose was to keep them safe, keep them innocent. Now innocence was slipping away. Because with every fraction of a second they remained open more infections the former trees received.
The trees that were once covered in a shield of amour impenetrable by the demons, other than those of an axe, were now left unprotected, vulnerable to the ways of the world. They were accessible to impurities for the second time now.
This time it was his fault. If not for his curiosity to discover what secrets were possessed by the shields, they would be safe. Although, he can be related to the fall of the lumber also. Indirectly he can be to blame. The trees were cut for paper, the paper to make a book, the book to be bought and read by consumers. That’s where he comes in. The consumer: The source of horror in the world of the tall and mighty greens. He hated himself for it. He hated that he was the one to lower the drawbridge for nefariousness.
At the same time he hated the author for luring him in. It was the author that made him inquisitive. Could it be that the author was on the side of evil? An author would enjoy the fall of the lumber, for it produces that which he needs to survive off his gift. The authors suck the life away from the evergreens. They then rejuvenate them solely for their own benefit. However they are kind enough to provide them some protection. Too bad it doesn’t last. Once the first sentence has been read the evergreens are no longer protected. He hated authors.
Not just authors. He didn’t care for people in general, as horrible as that may sound. But that’s how he was, and rest assured he had his reasons. His solitude kept him company, and the thoughts in his head made up his conversations. He could carry an in-depth conversation with his conscience the way you would with another human being. So why would he need other people? He wouldn’t (Nor did they need him.). People, to him; were meant to be observed and not interacted with. They served as his amusement, and that was all. He could watch them for hours from his perch in the corner of their lives, undetectable by their radar.
In truth, people amazed him at times. But not in the same sense as being amazed by seeing you’re favorite band live, or any other form of favorable amazement. They amazed him in a somewhat unexplainable yet negative way. He didn’t understand the way they acted, how they could change themselves depending on who surrounded them. He often compared people with chameleons. Their conformity drew his attention. Their predictable lost it. Yet he would watch. Perhaps hoping that a human worth associating himself with would come along, but that has yet to happen.
He didn’t consider himself to be above everyone else which is how it may seem. He knew he wasn’t. If anything he thought of himself as inferior. His self-confidence was little to be spoken of, almost non-existent. He knew he wasn’t superior. He just didn’t want to associate himself with other people. It was most likely out of fear of rejection, but he would oppose that statement as soon as it was spoken about him. He enjoyed his space and that was that. It needn’t been delved into further.
Bye